


a little pain (never hurt anyone)

by ephemera (incognitajones)



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Medical, Angry Sex, F/M, Light Bondage, MSF in space, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 05:42:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15308706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitajones/pseuds/ephemera
Summary: So much anger is seething inside Jyn that she can’t see straight, and she doesn’t know how to bleed it off. It’s a constriction in her breath like a cracked rib, pain like an invisible bruise rising under her skin. She wants to hurt someone, anyone, but she has barely enough sense left not to pick a fight in a well-patrolled place like this; she’ll end up in the local jail and have to spend half her contract money on bail. That leaves the other alternative...





	a little pain (never hurt anyone)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit weird, maybe, but go with it? 
> 
> (It's set in the [MSF AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10501170/chapters/23168658), but all you need to know about that is it's a canonverse AU in which Jyn became a freelance journalist and Cassian is a doctor working for the Star Wars equivalent of Médécins Sans Frontières.)

To Jyn, Onderon means grief. 

Here is where she was dumped on Saw Gerrera as a suddenly orphaned, bewildered child of seven. She left at ten and has never returned—until now, because the holonets are offering outrageous amounts for coverage of the first post-war monarchical election. So she can’t refuse, and then she feels even worse for letting greed convince her. She hopes it won’t be as bad as she fears.

It’s worse. As soon as she sets foot back in Iziz, she hates it, all of it: the heat and the humidity and the smiling, friendly people. She sees her skinny, pig-tailed self around every corner and far too many of the places Saw used to take her are still standing, despite the war. Worst of all, it’s such a prosperous city she can’t find any properly seedy cantinas where she can drink her face off, just clean and friendly bars for tourists. 

Jyn stares moodily into her glass, swirling the cloudy Blue Ruin around in whirlpools. So much anger is seething inside her that she can’t see straight, and she doesn’t know how to bleed it off. It’s a constriction in her breath like a cracked rib, pain like an invisible bruise rising under her skin. She wants to hurt someone, anyone, but she has barely enough sense left not to pick a fight in a well-patrolled place like this; she’ll end up in the local jail and have to spend half her contract money on bail. That leaves the other alternative: fucking.

She hasn’t done this sort of thing in a while, not since her younger days on Coruscant when she believed she was invulnerable. But if she can’t hit someone, it’s either find someone for rough, reckless sex or drink over-priced booze until she passes out.

Which is how she finds herself banging on the door of Cassian Andor’s hotel room, and pushing her way inside when he opens it. 

“Jyn?” he yawns, scratching a hand through his tousled hair. “What’s up?” It’s still early, but he looks tired; he must have fallen asleep fully dressed, given the rumpled state of his pants and shirt. 

Jyn’s momentum and her nerve both evaporate. Why did she come here instead of picking up some anonymous stranger at the bar? She doesn’t really want to hurt Andor; he’s too damned nice. She shakes her head angrily and paces around the room, unable to get the words out. “I need—I need—” She doesn’t know how to say that she needs to do something with the pain smouldering beneath her skin. To get it out somehow, where it can be dispelled.

Cassian watches her fidget for a few minutes without saying anything. But when she clamps her right hand around her left wrist and squeezes, hard enough to make her bones creak, he steps closer and slides his arms around her waist. “You need a distraction?” he whispers against her hair. 

Jyn’s mood is still toxic and churning; tenderness isn’t what she wants. And the painful compression of her own fingers has given her an idea. She reaches for Cassian’s waist, undoes his belt, and slips it out through the loops of his trousers. She twists the leather between her hands, testing it—not too stiff, it should work. 

She holds it out to him. “Tie me up.”

Cassian looks startled for an instant before his face realigns into carefully neutral. “Wouldn’t you rather use it on me?”

“No.” She shakes her head again in frustration at her inability to say things clearly. “I need something to fight.”

He keeps looking from her face down to the belt in her hands, and back up. His hair has fallen over his eyes and she can’t read his expression. Maybe he’s wondering if she’s completely cracked.

“Behind me,” she directs him, turning around and clasping her hands together at the small of her back. If they’re in front of her, it’ll be too easy, not painful enough. 

“Jyn. Are you sure about this?” Cassian asks, soft and soothing, the way you’d speak to someone you thought was hysterical.

“Don’t _patronize_ me,” she spits, her voice strained and shaking. “Just do it. Or if you don’t want to, say so.” 

She can leave and find someone else who does. Easily. She probably should anyway—this was a monumentally stupid idea, why should Cassian care about her specific, slightly off-kilter sexual needs? They barely know each other. Just because she’s slept with him two or three times doesn’t mean she can trust him...

She takes a step toward the door, and Cassian’s warm hand curls around her forearm. “Okay. Okay. If it’s what you want.” 

Cassian’s slow and gentle, but he does a thorough job. By the time he’s finished looping the leather around her wrists, testing the give, and twisting it into a hard knot, Jyn’s racing heart has slowed a little.

She tugs experimentally at the binding. It’s uncomfortable, but bearable; he was careful to arrange her arms at an angle that won’t make her shoulders numb too soon. And he’s left far too much play between her wrists for it to act as a proper restraint. She could get out, if she tried for long enough, but she’d lose some skin and might dislocate a thumb. 

Something concrete to fight helps; struggling against the rigid leather refines her rage, letting her direct it away from her own uselessness. She can breathe a little easier now and the lump in her throat is less choking.

Cassian wraps his arms around her from behind and presses his mouth to the top of her head. “What else do you want?” 

All Jyn knows is what she doesn’t want. She doesn’t want to think about herself anymore; she wants to be used. “Fuck me. Hard. Don’t be nice.” 

“Alright.” He sighs slow and even into her hair, and again she tries not to wonder what he’s thinking. “But you have to promise you’ll tell me to stop if anything doesn’t feel right. Any pain, or numbness, or—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, quit being such a _doctor_. I’ll tell you if anything hurts too much.” 

He takes her by the shoulders and turns her around. He frames her face in his hands and kisses her, warm and soft, even though Jyn thinks she gave pretty clear directions about what to do. 

She pushes forward into the kiss. With her arms behind her she almost unbalances until she leans into Cassian, using him as support while she slides down his torso and drops to her knees. The dingy carpet offers just enough cushioning that she probably won’t get bruises.

“Jyn…” he trails off, gasping, as she mouths at the line of his cock through his pants. “Wait, wait.” He cups her jaw in his hand and gently pushes her head away. 

Most guys in this situation would go straight for the blowjob; Jyn can’t understand why Cassian’s being so fussy. She glares up at him. “I told you, stop being nice.”

He holds her chin, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip, and she’s tempted to bite down on it to show that she’s serious. He might be weirdly reluctant, but given the way she felt him stirring under her mouth, at least part of him is into this.

“If that’s what you want,” he says again, quietly. 

He pulls her to her feet, surprisingly easily, and walks her backward until her calves hit the side of his bed. After she sits, he tips her down on to the mattress with care, one hand between her shoulderblades so she won’t land painfully on her bound arms. Jyn lifts her hips a touch to help him tug her pants off first before dropping his own (forward thinking even with an erection, impressive). She hopes that means he’ll pull her back up and let her use her mouth; she can give him head for a lot longer if she’s sitting instead of kneeling. 

Instead, he braces himself over her on his elbows and nuzzles the angle of her jaw. When he brushes his lips against the corner of her mouth, though, Jyn turns her head away. Kissing isn’t what she’s here for.

Cassian sighs against her cheek, but doesn’t try again. He brushes his thumbs delicately along the line of her collarbone and drags his lips along her neck. Jyn squirms underneath him, frustrated by his gentleness. Finally, finally, he nips at her throat and the tiny sting of it in contrast to his soft lips is better. He builds into a rhythm: back and forth between tender, soothing kisses and hard, raw bites—licking over the throbbing pulse point in her neck, biting down harder when she whines and tips her head back. She arches, trying to lift her breasts closer to his mouth, feeling the strain in her shoulders but not caring.

Cassian laughs softly. “If you weren’t so bloody impatient, I could have taken your shirt off first.” Instead he pushes it up with one hand and plays with her breasts, tracing delicate patterns across her aching nipples. He teases them with his teeth, nips at the swell of her breast and that’s what she needs. 

She presses up into his bite. “Like that—yes, _harder_ —” She wants to be marked, wants to see dark blotches scattered over her skin.

“Stop being so bossy.” His voice against her skin is infuriatingly amused. “I’m pretty sure the one who’s tied up isn’t supposed to be in charge.”

There’s a comeback hovering on her lips, she swears, but then he scrapes his teeth over her nipple hard enough to sting at last, and she gasps. He keeps going, biting and nipping and sucking just at the edge of pain that she needs, and she bucks up again despite the twinge in her shoulders.

Suddenly his mouth vanishes. Jyn hears a desperate whine come out of her own mouth, and her closed eyes fly open. Cassian drops to the floor, grabs her thighs and drags her legs off the side of the bed, shrugging her knees over his shoulders. 

This isn’t what she expected, what he was supposed to do. Jyn manages to curl her head up to protest. “What—” Her breathy voice cracks and she swallows. “What are you doing?”

He lifts his head, his hands still gripping her thighs. “Do you want me to stop?”

His eyes are dark and hungry. Mesmerized, she shakes her head. 

His hot mouth is on her so suddenly that her hips snap up and her drawn-back shoulders feel the strain. He consumes her voraciously, lips and teeth and tongue working, and Jyn comes before she even has time to process it. She can’t catch up to her orgasm as it sweeps through her, making her whole body jerk and leaving her lightheaded. 

And then he starts again before she’s stopped shaking. 

Jyn flings her head back at the next stroke of his tongue and moans. With her hands restrained she can't direct him and with her legs off the bed she has no leverage to lift her hips; she can't do anything but let Cassian lick her however he wants. When she tries to squeeze her legs together around his head he flattens one warm palm on her thigh and presses it down, holding her open to his searching mouth.

He isn’t gentle with her any longer, but ruthless. This time he pushes her to the brink and holds her there, vibrating like a struck crystal. She clamps her bottom lip between her teeth to try and muffle the noises she’s making. His fingers climb up her ribs, cup her breast and pinch sharply at one over-sensitive nipple and that tips her over into another shattering orgasm. 

As she comes down, his mouth is still moving slow and gentle, his hands stroking her thighs through one last ripple of pleasure. She yanks her wrists apart, pulling hard on the leather, and the pain cuts through the pleasure long enough for her head to clear a bit. How does he know her, her body and her boundaries, like this? When did he learn to see her this well?

“What do you want now?” he asks.

“Stop asking,” she snarls. “You’re supposed to be using me.” This is not the hard, brutal fuck she intended, and she doesn’t know how to redirect it. 

But he continues to touch her softly, his fingers sliding over her slick skin. He curves and circles and strokes, watching in fascination as she bites her lip and fists her hands beneath her, yanking at the knot again. Her breath comes in sharp pants mixed with moans and she struggles to tell him to fuck her _now_ , dammit, stop teasing—

He fumbles for a condom from his kit bag, and their ragged sighs harmonize as he sinks inside her, Jyn’s body still fluttering around him with the fading ripples of her orgasm. Another cry is forced out of her throat when he begins moving, rolling his hips to drive himself deep. With her hands bound she can’t throw her arms around him to hold on and the force of Cassian’s thrusts shove them both backward across the bed.

She loses herself in sensation: thickness, pressure, the tingle of friction as he changes the angle of his hips. He’s keeping most of his weight off her with his elbows, but his hips are still heavy against hers, pinning her down to the bed, and it’s so fucking good. He buries his face between her breasts, lapping and kissing and biting, and her skin will be raw tomorrow but she doesn’t care.

A rush of something she doesn’t want to think about rolls through her and she nudges him with her chin, tilting her mouth toward his in a silent invitation. Cassian surges up to kiss her at last. His lips are gentle but the way he snaps his hips is hard, hard enough to be what Jyn needs. 

Jyn’s bound hands flex against the muscles of her ass, her elbows aching. It hurts in the best way now because she can’t think anymore; everything is too intense, overpowering as Cassian moves in her through the peaks and waves and rolling echoes of her pleasure. She doesn’t know whether to beg him to stop or to keep going. Her breath sucks inward in sobs, comes out in soft cries that she tries to stifle against his mouth. She can’t think, can’t move, her whole body is racked with pleasure to the point of agony until she dissolves into release around him, shaking and shaking and shaking until she thinks it might never end. 

She slumps into the bed, muscles gone heavy and slack even as she shivers uncontrollably with the last tremors of her orgasm. Everything is slow and languid, and the world is blurred. Jyn floats in a cloud of dreamy, boundless bliss. She doesn't even know when or if Cassian comes. 

She returns to the awareness of him kissing her damp face and murmuring unintelligible reassurances. She gulps in air as he rolls her shoulders to the side and works at the belt until he can undo the knot and she rolls on to her back again. He trails his fingers over her wrists, looking for chafing she assumes, and then massages up her arms to her shoulders and down again in long gentle strokes.

Jyn forces her heavy eyelids open and stares up at the stained ceiling, listening to her pulse thump inside her skull. She got what she came for; now she should pull herself together, get dressed and get out. But she can’t move. She just lies on his bed, limp and docile, letting Cassian check over her until he’s satisfied she hasn’t come to any harm. He stretches out beside her at last and pushes the hair off her sweaty forehead. She can see the concern in his eyes, but he's smart enough not to ask most of the questions he must have. 

In the end, all he says is “Are you okay?”

Jyn forces out a rough mumble of assent. 

“Was that... what you wanted?” He still looks worried, tiny lines etched between his eyebrows.

She clears her throat and manages to say, “Yeah.” She tries to reassure him with a weak smile that probably looks stoned. 

“I’m going to—” He jerks his head toward the fresher and tactfully disappears. 

She sits up awkwardly, fighting against the lethargy of her endorphin-drunk body. Her muscles are weak and trembling; she feels like she used to after Saw made her run laps until she collapsed. She picks up her pants and drags them on with clumsy hands, pushes herself to her feet and finds her shoes and her bag where she dropped them by the door. She doesn’t expect to see Cassian again before she slinks out. But he reappears as she sets her hand to the door panel.

He presses a torn scrap of flimsi into her hand. “Just in case.”

Jyn looks down at the personal commlink code scribbled on it. “What am I supposed to do with this?” 

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, looking down at the floor and rubbing one hand over the reddening back of his neck. “I just thought—if I hadn’t been here...”

“Then I’d have found someone else to fuck,” she says, flat and harsh. 

Which isn’t entirely true. If he hadn’t, Jyn knows, she’d probably just have stomped off to drown her anger in booze instead of trying to find someone else to screw—and that isn’t good. Whatever is growing between them, whatever Cassian thinks this means, she ought to cut it off at the root. 

“Well, you could have called me at least. Might’ve saved you some time.” He looks back up at her, holding something else back with an uncertain twist in the corner of his mouth, and Jyn knows she ought to leave without another word. But she can’t. 

“Fine,” she mutters gracelessly, and snatches the scrap of paper from his hand. “But don’t expect to hear from me.”

At least she doesn't kiss him on the way out. She tells herself that means she still has everything under control.

**Author's Note:**

> I’d been tinkering with this story off and on for months, but it finally gelled when I saw the prompts for Day 3 of Rebelcaptain Appreciation Week: AU of your choice, and “Tender” (which seemed especially appropriate given the two senses of the word). For a long time I'd been trying to write Jyn asking to be tied up, but I couldn’t find a way to make it work for her in canon—and then I realized how it could mesh with the way I see her in the MSF AU.
> 
> Title from the [Margo Price song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=68-J3wJjaDY).


End file.
